


Unbroken Horses

by worldtravellingfly



Series: Spotted Horse [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Women, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual Underage Sex, F/M, Historical Inaccuracies, Pre-Canon, Self-Insert, They’re both minors by our standards, but considering this isn’t Medieval Studies 1..., give it up for teenagers’ hormones, mostly based on the movies, warning: horny teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-02-18 23:31:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13110804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worldtravellingfly/pseuds/worldtravellingfly
Summary: Mildred is just trying to live her best life. Which means she wants Éomer in it. By her side. They'll need each other to survive the oncoming storm. (SI!as-a-Rohan-Shieldmaiden; mostly pre-movies.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No copyright infringement intended.

-1-

" _Mildred Milburgasdóttir_! What in the name of Béma do you think you're doing?" Hilda, a woman of some thirty-five summers, shouted, waving her fist threateningly at a young woman.

Said young woman hastily separated from the equally young man she'd been caught kissing in the usually abandoned corridor. ( _Usually_ being the more important word here.)

The two could not have been older than fourteen, perhaps fifteen summers.

"And you! Éomer Éomundsson! Don't think I never notice who instigates these- these highly unseemly displays at least half the time," Hilda continued in the same strident tone, hurrying over to them like the aging battle-axe she was. "This is enough. _Beyond_ enough. Your father shall hear about this! And your mother-brother as well, my Lord Éomer, mark my words!"

She reached for their ears, but only managed to grab their arms. Not hesitating, or stopping to think, Hilda dragged the two miscreants before the Lord of this household.

Éomer and Mildred exchanged a quick look, but neither showed any signs of embarrassment at being caught in the act, so to speak, once again.

There were no red cheeks or wide eyes. Not even a tiny hint of remorse in averted glances or fidgeting children. (Because that's what they were to everyone, most especially to the woman who was manhandling them currently.)

Hilda's temper boiled over, or perhaps _continued_ to boil over.

In any case, she kept muttering dire threats under her breath, most of them centered around the male anatomy and the female idiocy at allowing this improper behavior. Or even going so far as instigating it!

Mildred was biting her lips to keep from laughing out loud, not daring to tweak Hilda's nose even further. The poor woman would explode and where would Baldhelm and all the others be then?

Their mother could certainly not keep watch of seven children, soon to be _eight_. She had the oversight of the halls, meaning she was not only busy carrying as many children for her lord and husband as she could, but also burdened with the responsibility of making sure that everything was in order. That everyone had something to eat, to sleep on, and was contributing to the running of the hall.

Mildred knew first hand how much work that was, and her only regret about this entire situation was that her mother would be torn from her duties for the impending scolding.

Éomer sent her a small, encouraging smile.

Meanwhile, Hilda glowered at the guards stationed in front of their commander's door and they hastily jumped out of the way of the irate nurse.

Mildred suppressed a fond smile. Despite everything, she admired her former minder.

Only Hilda would dare to barge in on their lord while he was working in his study.

And people always wondered where Mildred got it from?

"My Lord Baldwig," Hilda curtsied dutifully, still somehow holding on to her two charges.

"Hilda," the man sighed resignedly, "where did you catch them this time?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Mildred watched as Éomer stiffened up, the metaphorical shutters coming down, covering his expression once again.

"In one of the old corridors," the nurse almost hissed, glaring darkly at the two delinquents.

Lord Baldwig sighed. Heavily.

By now, everyone concerned was familiar with this game.

Hilda dragged either one or both of the teenagers before her lord and master, who sighed and waited for his wife to be informed.

Once Lady Milburga knew about the situation, she'd appear as quickly as possible, scold the children, most especially her daughter, and set them some sort of punishment, which would be confirmed by Lord Baldwig.

Afterward, Lady Milburga would return to her duties as quickly as possible, leaving the rest of them to their own devices.

In the meantime, Lord Baldwig would sigh a lot, but ultimately left the decision-making to his wife, seeing as this supposedly fell under her purview.

Éomer would look as stoic as possible, complete his punishment without complaining, and still spend as much time with Mildred as her parents allowed.

Mildred knew she'd be ordered to help out the healers, such as they were, with the few injured and ailing who required some medicine or another. If the infraction was deemed _quite_ reprehensible, she'd end up also spending a lot of time with her father-mother, who wasn't quite the gift to humanity she'd always considered herself to be.

Then, Hilda would grumble that the lord and lady let them off _much_ too easily and vanish back to the nursery, where, no doubt, one or another of Mildred's sizable brood of siblings required her help.

However, this time, things appeared to be different.

Hilda was still fuming, as usual, but there was a note of seriousness in her voice when she added to her report: "Please forgive me, my Lord, but unless you separate these two today, at least the Lady Mildred will soon be considered unsuitable for marriage."

Éomer and Mildred exchanged a quick look.

_This_ was new.

They'd both made sure never to go too far; to cross that line of no return. Neither wanted to destroy the other's reputation and good name.

Apparently, somehow, they'd still managed it anyway. At least in Hilda's eyes.

Although, how exactly they'd come to this point remained unclear to Mildred. Considering they'd both been just kissing - all hands had remained visible and in innocuous enough places.

Well. Éomer's had been wrapped loosely around her waist and she'd had hers around his neck, but still.

And maybe the kisses had grown a bit heated. Just a little bit, though.

Mildred sighed inwardly, hoping that her lips had lost some of the swelling.

Éomer's still seemed a bit red.

Before Lord Baldwig could say anything though, the door opened, revealing his pregnant wife.

Lady Milburga took one look at the two teenager's lips, Hilda's dark expression, her husband's frown, and sighed herself.

"Sit down, please," Lord Baldwig said, offering her his chair. (It was the most comfortable one in the entire building.)

So, the lady of the house sat.

"They've finally gone too far?" Lady Milburga asked Hilda.

"Yes, m'lady."

"Oh, dear," the woman said, frowning slightly at her daughter. "Oh, dear."

"I shall inform Théoden King of the happenings here. His must be the last word."

Husband and wife stared long and hard at each other.

"Do as you think is best, my Lord. But hear this: I believe it would be best for all involved if Mildred and Lord Éomer were promised to each other, bound by their own bond."

"They are still full young, my Lady!" Lord Baldwig protested, beginning to pace, and ran a hand through his wavy blond hair.

He always swore that all the streaks of gray were due to Mildred and her antics.

Lady Milburga shook her head, red hair swishing over her shoulders. "No, they are no longer protected by their years, few though they may be, my lord husband. Both of them have seen fourteen summers and received their first blessing from the wise woman. Lord Éomer has had to start shaving more than two moons passed and our daughter is growing into a beautiful young lady. No, they must be promised to each other or one of them must leave."

Resounding silence filled the room.

Lord Baldwig's eyes roamed over their faces, down to their hands.

Because of the way Hilda was still holding on to them, their respective wrists were exposed.

The blue horse galloping over Éomer's skin on his right hand matched the red band with stylized horses around her left wrist. The one every girl received after her first moon blood.

Mildred glared at Éomer when he made to step forward, to take all the blame on his shoulders, no doubt. Probably offering to be sent back to Edoras as soon as possible, too, while he was at it.

Not happening. Not on her watch.

"I shall leave then," she said calmly, stubbornly holding her head high. "Lord Éomer must be taught what my Lord Father has to teach and I can learn my duties from any Lady worth her salt residing in the Mark."

Lord Baldwig stopped pacing at her first words, staring at his oldest daughter as if he'd never quite seen her before.

Hilda's shoulders relaxed a bit, and there was pride glinting in the woman's eyes as she glanced at her former charge.

However, while Éomer's face had become even more unreadable, he was shaking his head openly in denial. "Do not send your daughter away, please, my Lord and Lady. If anyone, as the elder of us two, I should bear the brunt of the responsibility and punishment."

Mildred suppressed another sigh and the urge to roll her eyes, wondering if he'd ever let anyone take care of him.

Meanwhile, Lady Milburga sent her husband a telling look, some of the tension leaving her form as well. One of her hands now cradled her distended belly, where youmger sibling number six dwelled. For now.

Lord Baldwig sighed, as he was wont to do. Rubbing a hand over the bridge of his nose, the man began pacing once more.

"I see," he muttered eventually, stopping in front of both children. "I've done you a disservice, dearest one."

Mildred calmly met his eyes, one side of her mouth quirked up into a smile. "As have I, Father."

He chuckled, despite the situation.

"Very well. I know how to proceed now. For the time being, Mildred, you're confined to the nursery, your room, and wherever your lady mother or Hilda happen to be. If they ask you to help out in the healing room, then you do so. You're not allowed to leave their presence, unless another suitable chaperone accompanies you wherever it is you wish to go. You are not allowed to be in my squire's company without at least either Hilda, your lady mother, or my own self being present as well. Do you understand?"

Mildred nodded. "Yes, Father. I understand."

"Good girl," Lord Baldwig praised - with a warm smile for his oldest daughter.

Then, he turned to the other guilty party. "Éomer, you are quick-witted and fulfill your duties efficiently and competently, never once heard complaining. You are well on your way to becoming a Rider of the Mark in your own right, perhaps even a Marshal once a few more years pass. The other squires and even my own sons trust you with their concerns and happily follow your leadership. However, in this, I do not wish for any of them to follow your example. I hope you understand that I must insist on you respecting this separation of the both of you for the time being, although you may continue seeing and speaking to each other in the Great Hall at mealtimes."

Éomer bowed his acquiescence. "Yes, my Lord, I understand."

"Now, I shall send a messenger to Théoden King with news of this latest incident. Ultimately, he shall decide whether or not my proposal of a betrothal between the two of you is to his liking or not. Prepare yourselves for both outcomes."

Both teenagers nodded quietly.

"Very well. Hilda, please take Mildred with you to the nursery. Éomer, join the grooms in the stables. I'm sure there's enough work to be found there to occupy you for the rest of the day."

With that, they were dismissed.

 

~*~

 

_Edoras, Meduseld, after breakfast_

Théoden had barely finished eating and washing his hands when an exhausted looking man was brought to him.

"My Lord, this man says he has an urgent message from Lord Baldwig, concerning your nephew," Háma, one of his most trusted, explained.

Théoden motioned for the messenger to follow him, but told Háma: "Bring him some water and something to eat to my study."

The man nodded, then vanished. Presumably to do as he was bid.

Théoden led the way to his private study, wondering why he wasn't stricken with panic. Yet.

When he told the exhausted rider to sit in one of the few chairs, the man near collapsed into it. "Many thanks, Sire."

Instead of replying, the king hastily broke the wax seal and read through the missive his old childhood friend had penned in what looked like a great deal of hurry under a calm veneer.

_My King, my friend,_

_please do not be troubled by the urgency of this missive - your Éomer is alive and well as I write this. His pride and his feelings might be bruised for the moment, but I have full confidence in their complete recovery._

_It has come to my attention that we have had our eye on the wrong daughter of mine for his bride._

_Hilda, my children's nurse, caught Éomer and my Mildred kissing in a secluded hallway once again - I will not bore you with the details, but both Hilda and my wife believe that soon Mildred's honor, at least, will be considered compromised - if it is not already._

_I believe that neither of the children had any intentions to cross that mark, but it has happened._

_Hilda brought them to me as soon as she found them, and it was deemed best for the children to be separated unless they were betrothed to each other and made to marry within a few years. Certainly younger than any of us expected._

_Mildred already offered to leave if you wish it, so that Éomer can continue his apprenticeship under me. She tries to protect him, hoping to spare him some of the blame and embarrassment of being sent away with this hanging over their heads._

_I believe it would hurt both of them deeply to be separated at this point, though it must be done - one way or another._

_If for no other reason than to make sure there will not be serious consequences from their close bond._

_How do you wish for me to proceed?_

_Your servant,_

_Baldwig Baldorsson_

Théoden read and reread the letter several times, unsure if he should, nay, _could_ believe its contents.

Éomer, his stoic, reserved sister-son, that Éomer - toying with the affections of a young girl? Being caught kissing her in so inappropriate a manner that her _family_ nearly considered her honor compromised? Éomer?

Théoden still remembered when his sister-children arrived in Meduseld, after the death of their parents.

Éowyn, all of five summers, had been crying and fighting out her grief.

For a time, she had been the most obnoxious, trying person he had ever known - and he spent the chief of his hours dealing with trade agreements and counselors.

Théoden lost count of the times he'd been informed that his sister-daughter had gotten into yet another fist fight with one of the other children in Edoras, or that she'd returned with bruises and injured knuckles.

She reminded him a lot of his sister's husband - if Théoden were honest with himself.

However, Éomer had been a completely different foal.

Certainly, he'd gotten into the odd scuffle or two, but usually so as to get his sister _out_ of them.

He'd refused to cry or show much of any emotion. Unless it was affection for both Éowyn and Théodred, or, eventually, the horse he'd been gifted with.

The control the boy had over his temper was a thing for the legends, in Théoden's not so humble opinion. He knew that his sister-son came by it honestly, that fire.

No, Éomer had preferred to listen quietly to the people around him, rather than boast about his own exploits, youthful though they may have been. He'd never shown off his blessings, never boasted to anyone of the extraordinary number he had already collected before even starting his fostering properly.

He'd always scrupulously adhered to every single rule imposed upon him. It went so far that his teachers asked for an audience to inquire whether Théoden thrashed him for every single infraction.

(He did not.)

And now _this_.

Théoden knew that Éomer _never_ did anything without thinking it through to all possible ends, as he saw them.

If his sister-son had gotten caught kissing a girl in such a manner, he would have thought through all the consequences before acting. Even under the strain of the …excitement the discovery of maidens could evoke.

_Éomer_ would _not_ have kissed the girl in the first place without there being some sort of deep feeling beforehand.

Startled, Théoden reread the missive carefully one last time, allowing his thoughts to run their course.

He knew how to act.

 

~*~

 

"Take this letter and deliver it to your lord's hand," Théoden ordered the messenger the following morning, handing over a sealed letter.

The man had rested for the rest of the previous day and had been fed well. His horse had also been well taken care of, thus ensuring a swift return to the lands of Lord Baldwig.

Théoden was already looking forward to his old friend's reply.

The king watched the messenger ride off before the majority of Edoras had their breakfast, grinning under his beard.

Éowyn joined him, slipping her small hand into his much bigger, rougher one.

"Mother-brother, what happened to Éomer? I heard that a messenger came with news."

Théoden turned his amused face to his sister-daughter.

"Oh, our Éomer is only learning what it means to be a young man," he replied, still grinning. "Don't worry too much for him. He's quite the happy lad from what I've heard."

Éowyn cocked her head, sending him a questioning glance.

Théoden chuckled. "You will understand when you're grown enough to receive your own blessings."


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No copyright infringement intended.

-2-

_Several days later_

Mildred looked up from where she'd been helping Baldwyn with her sampler. For a girl of seven summers, her stitches were remarkably fine.

Hilda nodded for the boy to come forward.

He bowed, then announced solemnly: "Lord Baldwig requires your presence in his study, Lady Mildred."

"Thank you," with that she dismissed the boy.

"I shall escort you," Hilda said, before Mildred could even ask.   
She motioned for one of the maids to come closer. "Watch the boys. Lady Baldwyn will continue with the task her sister set for her. We shan't be long."

Mildred squeezed her little sister's hand subtly, hoping to give her some reassurance even though she felt none herself at the moment.

However, she wanted to finally know her fate - whatever it may be.

Baldwyn's lips wobbled suspiciously as Hilda nodded to show she was ready to leave.

"I shall be right back, little filly. Don't worry overmuch now."

Her sister nodded, hastily wiping away a stray tear. "Promise?"

"I promise."

Mildred hugged Baldwyn gently, smiling at the young girl.

But as soon as the door to the nursery closed behind them, she frowned lightly.

Hilda gave her a soft smile, full of approval. "Come now, my Lady. Your lord father is awaiting your arrival."

Mildred nodded, straightening her dress, and followed the nurse through the corridors to her father's study.

This time, Hilda didn't frighten the guards into submission, but rather allowed one of them to knock.

As they were bid to come in, Hilda squeezed her hand in a similar manner as, only moments before, she had done to her sister. "Good luck, my dear girl."

Again, Mildred nodded, closing her eyes for a heartbeat. Then she opened them, straightened her entire posture, and walked into the study as if she owned it.

There was no need to be afraid after all - the decision had been made. Now, she only needed to figure out how to live with whatever the outcome might be.

Lord Baldwig stood behind his desk, smiling fondly and bowing his head a little to acknowledge her entrance.

"Dearest," her father said warmly.

He offered her his open arms - an invitation she happily accepted.

Mildred closed her eyes, cheek pressed against the embroidered velvet of his tunic. She breathed in the unmistakable scent of her father: a mixture of leather, a whiff of horse, and the herbal soap he preferred to use.

His beard scratched her forehead a bit as he pressed a kiss on the skin there.

"My very own, little firebrand. Do you know, I was the first person who held you when you arrived in the world? You were so small you fit into the palms of my hands."

She could hear the fondness in his voice, the fierce pride.

"Unlike all of your siblings, you were so quiet," his voice hitched a little, "we thought you did not have the strength to survive the coming weeks. It was a hard winter. But, by Béma, you had us all fooled. I can still well recall how my ears were ringing as you shared your displeasure with the world! How dare we evict you from that comfortable home, under your mother's heart?"

The fondness increased, but gained a wistful edge.

"Sometimes, when I look at you, I wonder where the time has gone."

Mildred grinned a bit wobbly, deeply touched by this rare display of his softer feelings. "I love you too, Father," she muttered into the tunic, tightening her own hold on him a bit in emphasis.

"What shall I ever do without my little firebrand underfoot? I had always thought that our parting shall come when you are much older, to one of my éored," he admitted softly. "A man who lived close enough for regular visits."

"Oh, Father..."

He pressed another kiss to her forehead. "I should have known that you would make your own choice. You always knew your own mind best and never were you shy to share those decisions with us others."   
He sighed. "Théoden King writes to invite you to the Golden Hall in order to become an apprentice to the Lady Cwendar. She has led the king's household in the absence of the queen and would show you your duties as the wife of the king's sister-son."

Mildred closed her eyes, feeling her shoulders loosen as the tension bled out of them. "So I shall be tested."

Her father chuckled. "Had you any doubt in that?"

She looked him straight in the eyes. "Never. Éomer loves and respects his mother-brother too much for him to be indifferent to him or his sister. No, I always knew I would be tested."

"I have no doubt that you shall be glorious, dearest. I am afraid, I have bragged much to others about my most capable daughter. So much," he added with a hint of mischief in his voice, "that those others may doubt the truth of my words."

Mildred snorted at that. "Let them doubt. I shall do my best and leave them to their thoughts. To them, I have nothing to prove."

Her father laughed, his entire body shaking with amusement. "For you already hold the affections of Lord Éomer?"

"Naturally. I don't require anyone's approval, not even his."

"I'm glad, dearest, for that. If he had been toying with you or coerced you into anything against your will, I'm afraid I would have waged war against an old friend."

He said it so casually, as if commenting on the weather or whether it was better to use a sword or spear for a specific task.

Mildred sucked in a breath. "Father!"

"I know it should not be so, but you are dearest to my heart, little firebrand, and for you, I would set aflame the Mark."

"Oh," was all Mildred could come up with. She had always known he loved her, sometimes even better than any of the others, but this?

Nothing quite showed how deep his love for her ran - not like casual mention of high treason and war, apparently.

Her father gently pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. "I shall miss you by my side at meals."

As much as she appreciated the sentiment, maybe she could help both him and her favorite little sister out.

"May I suggest a replacement, Father?"

His eyebrows raised a little, but he nodded anyway.

"Baldwyn. She will miss me most of all the young ones. I believe it's time to start her Shieldmaiden training. She is old enough for the bow, at least."

A smile grew slowly on his face. "Very well, dearest. Although I shall miss you, I shan't be the only one."

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter, Éomer," Lord Baldwig called out, voice warm, as he stepped away from her.

Mildred observed the blond who she was promised to now.

Éomer stood with his back straight, face shuttered from those who didn't know where to look. But his eyes were switching back and forth between her father and her, no doubt taking in the way her father was smiling.

"I shall leave you to explain and say your goodbyes, dearest. Remember that I'm only a door away if you feel the need to scream."

With that, Lord Baldwig left them alone in his study. His sanctuary.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Mildred attacked Éomer in a near-flying tackle hug.

He barely had the time to brace himself, but once she had wrapped her arms around him, he pulled her tight against himself.

She would miss this most of all, although the kisses were really quite pleasant as well.

"The King asked that I apprentice to Lady Cwendar, to learn all I can from her for my future duties," Mildred said, voice muffled by yet another tunic.

This one smelled like polish, horse, and honey soap. The one she'd gifted him with for his birthday.

A near silent sigh escaped him as he shuddered with relief.

Éomer breathed in the scent of her hair.

Mildred smiled a bit. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

He laughed. "I would never dare to dream of it."

They grinned stupidly at each other for a long moment.

"So, you and I shall wed?"

Knowing he needed to hear it confirmed out loud, that he didn't doubt her words, Mildred smiled. "Yes."

One of her hands was stroking his cheek, letting him order his thoughts. Allowing the news to sink in properly.

Éomer closed his eyes under her ministrations, a slow smile growing on his face.

"Do you know when?"

"I imagine when you have completed your apprenticeship and earned the right to call yourself a Rider of the Mark."

He nodded, pressing his lips on her forehead.

There was no itchiness or scratching this time.

"I shall miss you while you are gone," he told her softly, eyes boring into hers.

"I shall miss you too."

They basked in their embrace for a moment.

"Promise me that you won't fall irrevocably in love with some minstrel in Edoras?"

Laughing, Mildred stood on her tiptoes and proceeded to steal his breath.

"As long as you won't fall in love with Baldwyn."

Éomer grimaced at the mere idea, so Mildred deemed it safe to leave the two of them alone with each other.

"I'm afraid that you've already taken my heart. Until you no longer wish to own it, I'm not free to give it away."

"Then I shall guard it like a dragon," she promised, adding: "as long as you wish it, you may have my own heart."

"No one shall do it harm."

He swore it like a solemn oath.

Mildred knew he would do his best to keep his word. She also knew that sometimes life didn't bow to one's plans.

"Will you write to me?"

"As long as you reply."

"As quickly as my duties allow."

Éomer tugged her into his lap, seating the both of them in her father's chair.

Mildred hastily swallowed the involuntary shriek. Her heart was galloping away in her chest, but she couldn't stop the grin that stole over her face when she saw the mischief lurking in his eyes.

"I love you, you know," she whispered, leaning down so their mouths were nearly touching.

"I love you too."

After that, they didn't speak much more.

~*~

Within days, everything was readied for Mildred's departure. Her trunks packed with enough dresses to tide her over until she either outgrew them or could have the remaining ones sent to Edoras.

She snuck a few books in as well, all of which were written in Westron. All of them gifts from her father.

Mildred looked over her small chamber, now bare. She smiled as the door opened and her sister poked her head inside.

"Come, Baldwyn."

She closed the door behind her, jumping onto the bed next to Mildred.

"I wanted to give you something, so you'll remember me while you're gone," Baldwyn told her, offering her a neatly folded cloth.

"Thank you, sweetheart. How could I ever forget one as kind as you, sister?"

Curious, Mildred unfolded the cloth. It contained a beautifully embroidered page marker, dyed a deep green. In all four corners, a differently colored horse reared up, showing off its mane proudly. There were flowers as well, and in the middle, pride of place, were Éomer's and Mildred's initials, entwined.

It was superb work.

As Mildred told her sister so, Baldwyn blushed beet-red, hiding her face from sight as best she could.

"Oh, dear heart. Thank you! I shall treasure it always."

She embraced her little sister, mildly surprised by just how much she would miss her while she was gone.

Baldwyn nodded, burying her face in Mildred's side. "I don't want you to go, but I know that you shan't be able to marry Éomer unless you do. So I won't ask you to stay, not like Baldhelm and the other boys."

"Oh, Baldwyn. You can always write to me and if it's urgent, you can go to Éomer or Father. They will help where they can."

"They're not you."

Mildred shook her head, grinning. There was no arguing with that logic. "Show them how much you can shine, sweetheart. And kick Baldhelm's shin a time or two from me."

Baldwyn nodded seriously, but mischief sparkled in her eyes.

~*~

The following morning, Mildred sighed when her door opened once more.

This time, instead of a younger sister, her mother joined her.

Lady Milburga gently took the comb from her daughter's hands, running it through her red mane the way she used to do when Mildred had been much younger.

Then she braided the long hair into a solid string with practiced ease, her tattooed hands working with their usual gentle efficiency, tying the end with a piece of leather.

Their eyes met in the mirror and Mildred nodded at her.

She wondered what kind of color the latest tattoo around her mother’s wrist would be; another blue one or green for a little sister.

"I know Hilda and I have taught you well."

"You did."

"Don't allow anyone to make you believe otherwise. Sometimes, even the best of us are afraid of change."

Maybe Mildred would miss this woman who had given birth to her a little more than she expected.

~*~

In the courtyard, everyone and their mother was waiting.

Hilda was keeping Mildred's brothers in check and occasionally wiped away a stray tear. Possibly because she'd lose her best excuse to barge into the Lord's study now.

Éomer led Sigerun, her mare, out of the stable, fully saddled and ready for the journey.

Lord Baldwig stood next to his own stallion, a massive black warhorse.

Lady Milburga stepped forward, fussing with Mildred's cloak brooch, refastening it.

"Béma bless you."

With that, she kissed her forehead and joined Hilda in the constant battle against four little boys' excitement.

Mildred swung herself into her saddle, praising Sigerun softly for standing still and being so patient.

Her eyes met those of her betrothed and they nodded to each other, but she could see his love for her shining in the deep brown.

She smiled at him.

Then Éomer stepped back and let go of the reigns.

"Let us ride!" Lord Baldwig shouted over the din, leading the group out of the gates.

Mildred gently pressed her heels against Sigerun's flanks, urging her forward. She thought that she would like this adventure, seeing a bit more of their world.

It had been a long time since she had had the opportunity to travel.

Over fourteen years, to be exact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays and a good start into the new year!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No copyright infringement intended.

 

-3-

* * *

_Seven days later_

Mildred was burning with curiosity about the place where Éomer had lived before becoming her father's apprentice.

She would meet the remains of his family: his sister, cousin, and mother-brother. Who just so happened to also be the Lord of the Mark.

Over the course of the journey, they'd ridden at a comfortable pace for the horses, yet still made good ground.

Meduseld was looming against the horizon, like a throne, built to watch over the Mark.

Lord Baldwig stopped his stallion next to her, following her eyes to the largest city in the country.

"That is Edoras," Mildred stated more than asked.

"Yes, dearest. This shall be your home for the coming years."

"Very well. Then I must inspect the place a bit closer."

Her father chuckled and urged his stallion on.

The rest of his Riders followed suit, their horses' hooves thundering over the grass.

Their goal was in sight now, there was no need to keep holding back to conserve their energy.

* * *

A few hours later, Mildred watched as the gates to the city were opened and shouts of welcome greeted them.

Lord Baldwig was riding a little ahead and to Mildred's left side.

The rest of his men formed a tighter ring around her, although she doubted that that was due to (over-)protectiveness. Likely, the lack of space played a more important role.

They came to a stop in front of a beautifully built longhouse, with a thatched roof and exposed, carved wooden reliefs depicting battle scenes.

Mildred got an idea as to why people called it the Golden Hall.

She carefully heaved herself out of the saddle, a little stiff from riding for days on end.

Stablehands took their horses, to be rubbed down and fed, while they enjoyed the King's hospitality.

Others unloaded the pack horses, carrying off their possessions to be unpacked in their rooms.

Her father offered her his arm, smiling a bit wistfully under his beard.

"Shall we?"

Mildred nodded. "Let's."

* * *

Lord Baldwig led her to the throne room, which was also the Great Hall, controlling his expression again.

They drew stares as they walked, but Mildred was a bit too nervous to care overmuch.

Her father squeezed her hand discreetly, trying to encourage her no doubt.

Then they were greeted by an impressive giant of a man Lord Baldwig called "Háma" and their presence announced to the King and the other people inside of the large, luxuriously decorated room.

Mildred couldn't spend as much time studying the gilded tapestries and carvings as she wished to, however, since she was to meet the king and not his decorator. If there even existed such a person.

Her father led her forward, nodding to the occasional man as they passed, and came to a halt before a man a few years older than he himself was.

Théoden King had light-blond, almost white hair, a beard a few shades darker, and carried the burden of his years graciously enough.

What was visible of the skin beneath his tunic shone blue, green, and red, although she was too far away to recognize any of the symbols properly.

Their eyes met, each studying the other with much curiosity.

* * *

Théoden had thought he'd see many more years pass before he was to so much as entertain thoughts of meeting a female who was to join his household by marrying either his sister-son or his own son.

Éomer, in his usual way, had proven to have his own mind and ideas as to plans made involving him - without his personal input.

No matter, though.

Théoden only wished for his sister-son to find happiness, and if this Lady Mildred was to be it, he would gladly welcome her under his roof.

In any case, it would be nice to have a female of his family leading the household once more. Unfortunately, Éowyn was yet full young to begin her own formal training.

However, Lady Mildred had only seen four years more than his sister-daughter. Would she prove as capable as her father liked to boast when given the slightest opportunity?

It was blatantly obvious to Théoden that his old friend had a favorite among his sizable, ever growing brood. That favorite, to many of his fellow men's surprise, was not his firstborn and heir.

As Háma announced their arrival to the Hall, Théoden attempted to prepare himself for the maiden who had won his sister-son's favor.

Would she be more child than woman? Would she be comely or homely? (If he were honest, he expected more the former than the latter.) Would she be shy or capricious?

Despite everything he had heard about the lady in question, nothing could have truly prepared him for the young woman gliding toward him on her father's arm.

Her hair glowed like embers of a hot fire, despite the dust of the road, straining to escape the confines of her heavy braid.

Her deep blue eyes were flickering over her surroundings discreetly, taking everything in and dismissing the irrelevant information almost as quickly.

She was tall for her fourteen summers, head reaching to her father's shoulder - and Baldwig had always been of a stately height.

There was a smattering of freckles on her pale cheeks, though they did not detract from her beauty in any way.

Oh, yes, Théoden could see how any boy, Éomer included, could find himself fascinated by one such as her.

Baldwig halted, bowing and doing his duty to protocol.

Théoden, as King, did so as well, although the chief of his attention remained on the fiery beauty by his friend's side.

Finally, it came: "May I introduce my oldest daughter, Lady Mildred?"

She curtsied deeply, as befitting of her station and his, but she was not quaking in her boots or quivering in fear under the heavy stares boring their way into her flesh.

No, she would not be his friend's daughter, never mind his favorite, if she was that easily intimidated.

"Welcome to Edoras and the Golden Hall, Lady Mildred. How did you find the roads?"

One side of her lips quirked up a minimal measure, clever eyes watching his every move from underneath her red fringe.

"Thank you for your kind hospitality, Sire. The journey hither passed with much wonder for the beautiful landscape and thus I noticed little of the usual discomforts one must suffer when one travels, though few they were. We met no wolves nor any other creatures of the night, so I count myself content with my adventure."

Théoden nearly chuckled out loud. The fiery appearance apparently came with the same temperament.

"Perhaps you would like to refresh and rest from the little discomforts you endured? Rooms have been prepared for every one as your arrival was expected."

"That would be much agreeable, Sire," Baldwig assured him, eyes twinkling. "I fear that I am no longer young enough to be able to ignore the minor discomfort of traveling as easily as my daughter."

Théoden motioned for Lady Cwendar to step forward.

"Lady Cwendar, please allow me the pleasure of introducing your newest apprentice, Lady Mildred Milburgasdóttir."

The two females curtsied to each other, both taking the other's measure within a heartbeat or two.

"Lady Cwendar, please show our guests to their rooms," Théoden asked, hiding the amusement he was awash with from his voice.

Éowyn would either love this Lady Mildred her brother so liked or they would clash spectacularly.

Théoden could hardly wait to discover which road their relationship would take.

* * *

Mildred followed after the woman she'd just been introduced to.

Lady Cwendar embodied everything a noblewoman of the Mark should be: from her blonde hair to the light-blue eyes, which contrasted nicely against the red sun tattooed on her forehead.

She carried herself with an understated elegance and regality, to a degree which Mildred had not even seen her mother manage - not even when she was unencumbered by a future sibling growing within her.

They halted in front of an oaken door, the lady opening it for her to enter through.

"This is to be your chamber, Mildred. The servants shall unpack your trunks later, for now a bath has been prepared for your enjoyment. Would you like to eat a bite before resting?"

Mildred barely listened, too busy inspecting her new room.

It was good-sized, certainly bigger than the one she'd inhabited back in her father's hall. An oaken bed dominated the room, decorated with deep green, embroidered hangings.

The matching green curtains had been left open, allowing the sunshine inside the room.

There was a merry fire in the hearth, next to which stood a steaming wooden tub.

Her trunks were pushed to one side of the room, to be sorted through by her and a maid or two later on. A dress, one of the more formal ones in her possession, was laid out on the bed for dinner, or so Mildred assumed.

Recalling that she wasn't alone in the room and behaving like the country bumpkin everyone must think her to be, Mildred shook herself - figuratively - and thought about the question for a moment.

"I would much appreciate something to drink - some juice or water perhaps?"

Lady Cwendar nodded, a small, approving smile flickering over her face.

* * *

Five days after their arrival, Mildred found herself standing before her travel-ready father.

He smiled gently down at her. "Be good for the Lady Cwendar now, dearest," he bid her, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.

"I shall, Father."

"You will see, the time shall fly by and when you blink next, we will celebrate your wedding."

Mildred could feel a tear escape, despite her control. "Would you give him a letter from me?"

Her father nodded once, squeezing her shoulder again.

Before he could change his mind, Mildred slipped him a small, sealed letter, tied off with a silken, green bow.

Which, to her father's eye, looked suspiciously like her favorite hair tie.

"Know this, dearest: you will always have a home, no matter where your heart may take you."

Throwing caution and elegance to the wind, Mildred threw her arms around him.

After a moment's hesitation, her father wrapped his own arms around her.

"I love you, Father. Please take care."

"For you, I shall always do so."

Mildred watched them ride off long after the gates closed behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited!
> 
> I was a bit sick recently, thus the wait.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	4. The Naughty Bits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Also, this is the uncensored version. Meaning if you don’t like some light smut, then please read the version on FFnet (I’ll post in a few minutes).

-4-

Her father had been right. Time did seem to fly by, only halted by the odd incident that broke through the daily routine.

~*~

There was the time she was asked to prepare an entire feast by herself, with only a single day’s warning.

Mildred nearly dissolved into tears the first time she heard she wasn't allowed to ask anyone for help. How was she supposed to know what a royal feast required?

She'd only been to one in her entire life. The one in her own honor, when she had arrived.

In the end, she hardly slept, managed to forget nothing important by some stroke of luck, and learned the hard way to accept both criticism and praise from all sorts of people.

One must understand that Mildred was keenly aware that she didn't have many admirers at court, despite her old, noble blood and her father's close ties to Théoden King.

Having to stand next to Lady Cwendar, a distant relative of the king, for what felt like an eternity, with her back straight and a smile attached to her face while middle-aged men told her pompously that she'd done "well - for such a young filly from the country" - well. It was tantamount to torture.

A special kind of torture.

But, in the end, Mildred learned not to take her own insecurities too seriously when they were repeated aloud by strangers.

~*~

Of course, then there was Éowyn.

At first, the young girl enjoyed having another female closer to her age living in the Golden Hall.

She liked talking to her at mealtimes, as far as she was allowed to attend the more formal ones at the same table as Mildred, and they spoke often of their respective Shieldmaiden training.

Their age difference was enough for them to go hours upon hours without seeing the other. Or not sharing the same interests, outside of weapons training and Éomer.

The latter topic proved especially explosive, once Éowyn found out that Mildred was to pledge her troth to her brother.

From one day to the next, Éowyn became ice cold and painfully correct in her manners towards Mildred, only seeking her out for the occasional spar.

Most likely because no one else treated her like an actual opponent when she was holding a weapon in her hand.

Mildred contained her sighs at this change in behavior, realizing that Éowyn was afraid of losing her brother to what essentially amounted to a stranger. Afraid of having to compete with her for Éomer's affection and attention.

Perhaps it would have never gone as far as it did if there was someone consistently giving Éowyn honest, unconditional attention and affection - other than her brother.

Things probably would have continued in this vein if there hadn't been Théodred's best friend, Erkenbrand.

~*~

Mildred sighed as she closed the heavy, leather-bound ledger. That had been her last chore for the day, as assigned by Lady Cwendar.

She disliked going over the household ledger with the passion of a thousand fiery suns.

There were no calculators, no Excel sheets to help keep track of everything.

Everything had to be done by hand and in mind. There was no room for error because parchment was expensive even at the best of times.

Béma protect her should Lady Cwendar discover a mistake!

Mildred locked everything away again, in its proper place. She would be lynched if something had been misplaced or, worse, gotten lost in one manner or another.

As she walked down the corridors to her chambers, she stretched, popping her spine. Thankfully, no one saw her do so.

Mildred considered her books - all of which she'd read too many times to count - and then her eyes fell on her bow.

Deciding it had been too long since she had gotten to use it, Mildred secured her quiver and slung her bow over her back.

As she walked to the archery range, she secured her vambraces.

Mildred shielded her eyes as she stepped outside of the Golden Hall, not having expected the sun to shine quite so brightly.

"...no place for a little filly like you!"

The taunting tone drew her attention to a small altercation halfway to the archery range.

Erkenbrand and a fidgeting Théodred stood opposite from a fuming Éowyn.

"Women can fight too!" Said blonde protested, face red with anger. And did she just stomp her right foot?

Mildred sighed inwardly, but decided to help Éowyn out. At least to even the numbers.

Unfortunately, Erkenbrand had recently started growing his first fuzz and thought he was the authority on all things weaponry and manliness ever since he'd received his first blessing.

Even more unfortunately, he still hadn't managed to figure out that attacking a child - even if Éowyn protested this appellation, it would remain true until she received her own moon blessing - would result in harsher punishment than before he'd received that horse on his wrist.

"Battle is no place for a woman, much less a weak little girl like you! You should stay home and finally learn to behave like a lady. But you can't go home, can you?"

Alright, that's enough!

Within two long strides, Mildred had crossed the space between herself and Erkenbrand, swung back her fist, and drilled it into his stomach. Hard.

She had her fists stemmed into her hips, glaring death at the downed teenager.

"So, we 'young fillies' are weak, eh? Did that feel like a feather to you, Erkenbrand?" Mildred almost hissed in her anger. "If I hear you taunt anyone else about their home or family ever again, that hit will feel like a gentle tap in comparison. Do you understand?"

Erkenbrand hastily got back on his feet, pale as a sheet. One hand remained pressed to his stomach, and he was staring at her with wide eyes.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lady," he pressed out from behind his teeth.

"Good. Run along now. Éowyn and I have to sort out an archery competition I intend to win."

~*~

Somehow, she managed to terrify the poor prince that day, because he avoided her as much as possible whenever he could. Or started stuttering some sort of excuse when she asked him a question.

Which, by Béma, did not happen often!

Although Mildred suspected that Éowyn's newfound friendship was the main reason behind this strange turn of events more than anything she herself had done.

The girl followed her around as much as her teachers allowed, trying to imitate the way Mildred dressed or wore her hair. She even went so far as to ask whether her hair could be dyed the same color!

That startled Mildred enough to stop their sparring session and lead Éowyn to her chambers.

"Sit down," she told her gently, pointing to her bed.

Éowyn sat. Gingerly.

"May I ask why you want to be as much like me as possible? For, while flattering, it is worrying me to what extent you are feeling this way."

Defiant blue eyes, so unlike her brother's, met Mildred's own as Éowyn jumped up, pacing the room.

"You are strong. Even Erkenbrand respects you! You are beautiful and lady-like and yet you can still best me at spars or with a bow. Lady Cwendar praises your achievements to the King and that woman does not hand out praise lightly -"

Mildred pulled the younger blonde into a tight embrace.

"Oh, Éowyn. I'm sorry if anyone gave you the impression that it would be better for you to be me. You, dear heart, are as you should be."

They stood like that for a long moment.

Then Mildred winked down at the sniffing child who was to become her sister within a few years' time.

"If you ever see my parents, ask them what I was like when a small filly of a girl. I'm sure they would easily recall a mud-splattered, shrieking beast who loved to wrestle with her older brother whenever possible. Hilda, my old nurse, despaired over me ever growing into a young lady of any worth, for I snuck out of the nursery whenever it suited me."

Éowyn's eyes had grown wide, her mouth dropped open a little.

"But, but - Mildred, you are such a fine lady!"

In lieu of saying anything right away, Mildred sat on the bed once again, petting the spot next to her.

"Well, I like to think that others believe so. However, did you ever hear why I was sent here?"

One blonde head shook, although its owner snuggled readily enough against her.

Mildred grinned. "Hilda caught your brother and me in a rather unseemly position in an abandoned corridor. Nothing truly inappropriate was happening - your brother is too honorable for that - but we were seen kissing each other."

Éowyn gasped, too sheltered to have ever heard of such a thing before.

"It was decided that we needed to be separated, no matter what the King might decide. Naturally, your brother tried to take the fall for a decision we both made," here Mildred shook her head, rolling her eyes.

"You sacrificed yourself?" Éowyn sounded part scandalized, part awed.

"As if learning from Lady Cwendar and earning your friendship is a sacrifice," Mildred protested, amusement clear in her voice. "But, yes, I suppose, leaving was my choice. Éomer was sent to be apprenticed to Father for good reason after all. In the grand scheme of things, I considered myself less important than your brother's studies."

Mildred gently combed he fingers through Éowyn's hair, waiting for the younger girl to think about what she'd been told.

"Don't you miss your family?"

"Sometimes," she readily admitted. "I have quite a number of younger brothers, but only one sister. Baldwyn is a few years my junior and she is shy. Easily hurt, sometimes, and also easily forgotten among our boisterous herd of brothers. Baldwine and I, my older brother that is, we were the only ones who paid her any attention worth mentioning. I'm afraid that she is quite lonely, for she does not have the same close friendship with any sibling that you and I may enjoy with our elder brothers."

Éowyn's lips turned downward as a frown appeared on her face.

"Boys are stupid."

That earned her a laugh from Mildred.

"Well, some exceptions must be made, but yes. Now, do you see that no one is perfect and it is quite alright for you to be yourself?"

Éowyn nodded, mischief sparkling back to life within her eyes.

"Good."

~*~

After that, Éowyn returned to being her unruly self, much to the dismay of her tutors. However, she eventually conceded to learning the arts necessary for ladies of worth to know.

It helped that Mildred showed her how to kill an unwanted suitor (read: stalker) with an embroidery needle stabbed into strategic places.

Time flew by again, until Lady Cwendar found her one morning in late fall.

~*~

Mildred looked up from the shirt she was sewing, to be given to one of the poor.

Lady Cwendar settled herself into a chair opposite from Mildred, looking as harrowed as she ever allowed herself to look.

"Théoden King has just shared with me that Lords Éomer and Baldwig are expected in two days, unless some obstacle holds them up. We are to organize a feast in honor of Lord Éomer's return."

Mildred sat up straight, trying to somehow manage the stream of excitement flooding her veins. "Lord Éomer is returning?"

That earned her a fond look from Lady Cwendar.

"Alongside your father, yes."

Mildred tried to not bounce up and down in her chair. "I shall do my best to help, Lady Cwendar."

"Very good. I shall speak to Cook and arrange the food. Would you be so kind to take care that we have enough ale and wine for the feast? After that you might take Lady Éowyn and oversee the cleaning of the Great Hall."

Mildred just nodded along, distracted by her thoughts flying from the feast to finally seeing Éomer again back to the feast and so on.

The teen returned to the present when Lady Cwendar exclaimed over the state of her wardrobe: "Sweet Béma! Child, you've surely outgrown your good gowns once again! Speak to the seamstresses and order a new one for the feast - the old ones would be most unseemly."

Blushing, Mildred nodded. "Yes, my Lady."

~*~

Predictably, Éowyn was over the moon at the prospect of getting to see her brother again, although she couldn't resist teasing Mildred a bit when the older girl almost forgot to order the tapestries cleaned.

But none of the servants took offense; most of the older ones couldn't hide their indulgent smiles quick enough.

The seamstresses just nodded knowingly when Mildred muttered something about her old dresses being a bit too tight to be appropriate and promised to finish her new concoction in time for the feast.

Mildred felt a bit bad about the sleepless nights the woman and her assistants were likely going to suffer through just to fulfill that promise.

~*~

As soon as she heard the familiar commotion of horses arriving with their riders, Mildred was off, running toward the entrance.

Just before she could be seen by anyone that counted, she forced herself to slow down into a quick walk and straightened her hair and dress.  
Hoping she looked somewhat presentable, despite having spent some time with Cook in the kitchens, making sure that everything was right on track for the commencement of the feast, she stepped forward.

Mildred's eyes flew over the freshly arrived and partly dismounting riders, gifting her father with a quick smile when she found him, but she wasn't overly interested in greeting him yet.

No, that honor went to another.

Only the hundreds of eyes watching her every move kept Mildred from running over and hugging the stuffing out of her betrothed.

As she came to a stop in front of him, she noticed that he'd grown. Height-wise and also his shoulders. His hips had narrowed, or so it seemed.

Éomer was watching her just as intently as she him, a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze.

"Welcome home, my Lord," Mildred said, biting her lip in an attempt to control the massive grin that wanted to break out on her face.

Something eased in him and Éomer's shoulders lowered slightly as the tension left them.

"It's good to be home, my Lady."

Mildred beamed at him, knowing he had missed her just as much as she him.

~*~

Later, once everyone had rested and refreshed themselves, the feast commenced.

Mildred greeted her father with a fleeting hug and they were seated next to each other at the head table, but she barely spoke a word to him.

To be honest, she was a bit distracted.

By Éomer.

He looked _delicious_. Under the road dust hid a nice tan and oh, sweet Béma, had he always had those cheekbones? Or had he had some baby fat left to disguise it the last time they'd seen each other?

His eyes were positively glowing in the dim light, following her more often than not.

For the first time in her life, Mildred experienced a difficulty speaking in company. She couldn't follow the conversations around her. Or sit still, for that matter.

After the eating was done, the musicians began to play dancing music.

Of course, Erkenbrand asked her to stand up with him as soon as possible.

Mildred wasn't sure why the boy had decided to treat her like a queen after she punched him, but he jumped at every chance to help her or compliment her or dance with her.

Knowing it would be rude to decline, she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

Éomer didn't look happy at all, although to most people the small frown on his face didn't look like the outrage it represented.

At least that much hadn't changed - Mildred could still read his expression like a book.

Their eyes met as Mildred was turned, glowing amber and bottomless midnight blue.

Eventually, the dance ended and Erkenbrand politely brought her back to her place at the table.

This time, Éomer was waiting for her, holding out his hand in a silent offer of the next dance.

As they passed her father, both could hear his chuckles.

At least Lord Baldwig found something to be amused about. Or he was already starting to get drunk.

Always a possibility with the way Eorlingas celebrated.

Béma! Mildred had missed dancing with Éomer.

They almost knew before the other moved where they'd go. Not always, of course. There had been some truly spectacular mess ups where they'd almost crashed into each other, but Mildred knew that she was safe in following Éomer's lead.

He wouldn't let anyone else try to 'trip' and break his fall against her. Most often conveniently close to her butt. Or try to tease open the laces of her bodice, to expose her in front of the court.

(Which had been attempted once. And only once.)

Instead, Éomer was careful with her.

Mildred couldn't help herself - the entire time they were dancing together, she was beaming at him.

As the song ended, Éomer escorted her away from the table and their respective guardian, to the city outside.

As soon as they were far enough away that the noise of celebration was dampened, Éomer broke out into a run, toward the archery range.

Mildred didn't hesitate to follow suit.

They skidded to a halt in the far corner, out of breath and red-cheeked.

Mildred got her bearing back first and jumped into Éomer's arms, wrapping her own around his neck and her legs around his waist.

"Sweet Béma, I missed you so much -"

She was interrupted by his lips.

Mildred closed her eyes, sighing a bit as the last bit of tension left her.

Éomer seemed to grin under her, nipping her lip and slipping his tongue into her mouth. His hands buried themselves in her hair as best as they could, considering the thick braid.

Mildred didn't even think of resisting, but she tightened her hold on him.  
A few of her fingers tugged at his own hair tie, loosening it so his blond locks fell into his face, sheltering them from curious onlookers.

They separated once the need for oxygen became too great.

Mildred slid down his body, grinning and biting her slightly swollen lip when she noticed that their kissing had had a rather noticeable effect on him.

Éomer was panting a bit, like she herself, and leaned his forehead against her own.

"Béma, Mildred!" He muttered, eyes closed.

They opened a moment later when she stroked a small scar she hadn't seen before.

"It was a training accident," he explained readily enough. "You've grown."

To emphasize his meaning, he squeezed her breasts gently.

She slapped his arm lightly, playfully, and stole a quick kiss. "Says the right one. If anyone has _grown_ , especially recently, it's you."

A light blush covered those lick-worthy cheekbones.

"Don't you dare apologize! Now, where were we?"

Mildred didn't wait for him to reply, but stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his middle, eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Because I don't know how you feel, but I missed this."

He sighed softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Béma, Mildred, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Good."

With that, Mildred closed the distance between their mouths again and cheekily nibbled on his lip. When a soft moan escaped him, it was her turn to ravish him.

Éomer's eyes fluttered shut again, hands wandering to her bum and pulling her flush against him by her buttocks.

Mildred gasped, grinding against him. She could feel her nipples rub against the woolen chemise she was wearing under her dress, almost too sensitive for the slight scratchiness.

"Mildred," Éomer rasped out, "do you want to stop?"

The redhead in question took a deep breath, allowing Éomer to put his arms around her in a hug. A chaste hug.

"No, I don't. Do you?"

He shook his head. "Never. However, I do not wish to dishonor you either."

Well, she could work with that. "Éomer, haven't you ever taken care of yourself before?"

The flushed cheeks made a reprise appearance. But he nodded.

"Would it be alright if I took care of you tonight?"

Even in the darkness, Mildred could tell that his pupils were blown wide enough they almost swallowed his iris whole.

Éomer swallowed heavily, squeezing her a bit.

"Only if I may 'take care' of you tonight, fire."

"Well, you know," sharp inhale, "what they say," light gasp, "don't play with fire," biting her tongue to keep in the moan, "you'll get burned," she said, rather breathily, because his mouth was wandering further down her neck, intermittently kissing and licking the sensitive skin there.

The husky noise he made, which ordinarily would have been a chuckle, sounded downright indecent against her heated skin.

A tug and her hair fell free, near exploding outwards as her braid dissolved.

Éomer groaned low in his throat, hastily stifling the sound against her.

"I always wondered what it would look like when it was unbound," he admitted softly, watching her eyes as he scraped his teeth lightly against her throat.

Light enough not to leave any permanent marks, because if they were discovered...

Mildred tilted her head a little, trying to give him better access. "Did you imagine it brushing against you? Tickling your skin as our bodies moved against each other?"

Éomer moaned, panting against her neck as he tried to center himself.

"Sweet Béma, let me - please? I want, I need to take care of you first, or this will be over in a heartbeat."

Mildred nodded, "Yes. Please."

He tugged at the laces on her back, just enough to loosen her bodice a little. So he could get his hand in between the fabric and her.

One of his fingers more or less accidentally brushed against her hard nipple, earning him a soft gasp.

"Did you like that?"

"Yesssss," she hissed the last part, because this time his fingers twisted her nipple gently, on purpose.

Éomer tugged down her chemise and the bodice, exposing most of one breast to the night air.

Before Mildred could figure out what exactly he was planning, he had leaned down and pressed his lips against the hard nub.

Her head rolled back, a low groan escaping from clenched teeth.

She could feel his smile against her sensitive skin, then he took her nipple into his mouth. Tongue licking around it, lips wrapping around it.

Mildred buried her fingers in his hair, holding on for what promised to be a wild ride. Belatedly, she remembered that they needed to be quiet or they'd be heard and found out.

One of his hands began to gently massage her still clothed breast, thumb brushing over her second nipple extra slow.

The other hand wandered down, hitching the long skirts as they reached her hips.

Be quiet, be quiet, you need to be quiet, she reminded herself again and again.

It felt like she'd surely bite through her bottom lip soon, drawing blood.

"I like that your freckles are spread over your body," he whispered, burning brown eyes meeting her own. "I wonder if they go all the way down?"

With that he scooped her up in his arms with only minor effort and deposited her gently on one of the extra straw bales.

Mildred shifted, trying to get used to the straw through her woolen chemise and dress.

Éomer noticed and took off his tunic, offering it to her.

That made it a bit more comfortable.

Again, he carefully hitched her skirts up, hands caressing the new skin as if they had all the time in the world.

Mildred held her torso upright by shifting her weight on her elbows, leaning back, while she was being explored.

The sensation of cool air against her wet heat required some getting used to, but Éomer didn't allow her that.

"What do you like best?"

Mildred hijacked his hand, running it through her wetness, and then showed him how to manipulate her clit the way she liked best.

To be honest, penetration wasn't her thing, but this? This she could happily do for hours.

Éomer seemed to agree, judging by the way his gleaming eyes were fixated on what they were doing. He experimented with different amounts of pressure, rubbing his calloused fingers over her clit.

Mildred had to bite one of her fists to keep quiet as the pleasure rose and rose within her.

At some point, Éomer accidentally flicked her clit just a bit rougher than previously and -

Game over.

Mildred let herself fall back against the straw, legs still spread open enough to accommodate Éomer. She knew it was hopelessly indecent and incredibly decadent and she wouldn't have missed it for anything.

Panting heavily, she sat up once enough of her strength had returned.

"Did you enjoy that?" Éomer had the gall to ask.

There was a hint of a smirk lingering around his mouth and Mildred decided then and there to ruin him. Utterly.

"Very much. Now I'll have something to keep me warm at night until we're going to see each other again."

He gasped for breath inaudibly.

Mildred untucked his shirt, tugging it out of his leggings, slipping her cool fingers under the white fabric. Her hands weren't as calloused as his, but she knew he still felt some ridges as they moved over the rippling muscles of his abdomen, one around to slip into his leggings. The other up, to play with his nipples.

A glimpse of red against mildly tan skin peaked out as her fingers went to work.

"I'm going to imagine that your fingers are the ones slipping under my covers when I'm alone, teasing my nipples until they're nice and hard."

She demonstrated how and he closed his eyes against the assault.

Only to open them straight back up, as she pressed a kiss a little to the left of his treasure trail.

"My hair would be unbound, maybe I'll even be completely naked. After all, it's just me and no one will see."

Éomer's breath hitched and then sped up, in shorter bursts.

Mildred tugged at the laces holding his leggings up, looking up to make sure she was allowed.

He nodded quickly.

So she loosened the laces, carefully freeing him from his leathery prison.

His shoulders relaxed a bit, but only for a moment.

He was hot, straining against her hand.

"What do you like?"

Éomer closed his eyes again, trying to keep himself from coming before she had even done anything to him worth mentioning. When he was back from the brink, he spat into his hands and showed her.

Without hesitation, Mildred spat into her own hand, not even blinking, and wrapped her fingers around him. Lubrication was important. Her thumb was stroking the root, copying his earlier actions and experimenting with the pressure as she moved toward the end.

Drops of a clear liquid pearled out of the slit, so she used it as additional lubricant.

Meanwhile, Mildred's other hand moved lower, to search for his balls. They felt a bit strange to her, but Éomer seemed to like the slow movement.

"Mil-Mildred," he managed to get out in a strangled tone, perhaps trying to warn her, "use - tissue."

As soon as she had taken the cloth and wrapped it around his penis, he came into her hand.

Éomer was already a handsome specimen of the male species on any old day, but Mildred decided she liked him best with that punch-drunk happiness on his face just after she made him come.

It was probably a very good thing they would be missed soon - if they weren't already - and had to hastily get all their clothes back into order.

And to prevent any unwanted consequences, it was lucky that they had enough sense not to completely consummate their relationship. And that Éomer's stay was to be a short one.

The only one until summer, when they'd meet again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mildred did NOT sign up for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!

-5-

_August, Home of Lord Baldwig and Lady Milburga_

Théoden King had chosen Mildred's childhood home to host the biannual tournament for all hopeful apprentices to try and prove that they were ready to become Riders of the Mark in their own right.

Thankfully Lady Cwendar had agreed that Mildred had learned everything she could from her and arranged for her to be escorted home by some Riders of her husband's éored in early June. (After taking her to the most talented Wise Woman of Edoras to get her right wrist decorated with the traditional band of an accomplished noble lady’s blessing.)

Mildred arrived amidst the usual chaos of her family, the news that Baldwine would arrive himself in a few weeks to participate in the tournament as well, and a new little sister.

Lady Milburga had had a rougher time of it, giving birth, which meant she was weaker than was normal for her, and couldn't stem the organization of the tournament entirely by herself.

She had even trouble keeping the household running as smoothly as everyone expected, not to mention that the wise woman still hadn't come to bless the lady. (Which perhaps was the clearest sign that something was seriously wrong.)

Thus, Mildred's unlooked-for arrival came just at the right time.

~*~

Baldwyn ran and slammed into Mildred with enough force to almost knock her off her feet.

"You're back! Oh, I missed you so much."

Mildred laughed, hugging her little sister back just as tightly. "I've missed you too, my sweet one. You've grown so much since I last saw you!"

"And you look like a proper young lady now!"

"Oh, but appearances can be so deceiving," Mildred teased, winking at Baldwyn.

Who didn't seem to be capable of letting go quite yet.

Hilda snorted, uncaring how hypocritical that made numerous reprimands over the last few years, and welcomed her as well.

"It's good to have you back, my Lady," the old nurse told her warmly.

Mildred could barely stop herself from hugging the woman.

Unfortunately, Hilda might have suffered a heart attack due to the undignified behavior and how public she would've shown her affection for a servant.

Lord Baldwig insisted on receiving a hug of his own when she was announced at his study.

Somehow, Baldwyn managed to join in, grinning cheekily at their father.

Mildred suppressed another bout of laughter; instead settling on putting her right arm around her sister's shoulders.

"So, I'm here to help. Where can I start?"

"What? No questions regarding a certain blond apprentice of mine?" Lord Baldwig teased, tugging one of the strands of red hair that had gotten loose during the ride.

Mildred blinked innocently. "Why would I ask about Ordlac?"

Baldwyn laughed outright, despite the presence of their father.

It was obvious that the extra attention from at least one parental unit seemed to have done her a world of good.

"Oh, it is good to have you back, my firebrand," Lord Baldwig smiled at his oldest daughters. "And for your information, Éomer is out with a small scouting party and will only return in a few days' time."

Mildred couldn't help the rise of mischief. Honestly.

Both Baldwyn and their father grew wary as they saw something in her expression.

"Very well. Let me just wash up and change into something more appropriate for home and then we can see what still needs to be done."

~*~

As it turned out, a lot yet needed doing, so even if Éomer had been present, Mildred wouldn't have had the time to spare him a few moments every day.

Baldwyn had tried to take on what she could - mostly making sure the decorations were pleasing and that there would be clean tapestries and bedclothes.

With Mildred's experience, they quickly established a list of tasks that were urgent, less urgent, or things that could be left for later.

Barely after breakfast the day following her arrival, she ordered what food they still required, spoke to the housekeeper about cleaning all the guest chambers, preparing them for their future royal occupants.

Despite her best efforts, the hall simply didn't have as many rooms as would be required to house everyone, so Mildred asked her father to make sure there was enough space to pitch tents for those who'd have to go without.

Cook and her assistants were busy preparing what they could, as was everyone else.

A natural arena was set aside for the tournament.

The seating for the audience traditionally traveled to every host, so it had been sent along with Mildred.

Carpenters from the village began to erect it.

Everywhere she looked, people were busy working their butts off to make the Hall ready for the tournament.

She tried to keep control of everything, making sure that everyone was doing their jobs and nothing was going awry.

Regardless, little problems cropped up along the way.

They had not enough candles. The good table linens had been eaten by moths and required replacement. Their ale cellar was not nearly full enough for the number of thirsty warriors expected.

On top of all that, Mildred expected guests to arrive early and told the Housekeeper which guests were to be housed in the hall itself or would have to sleep in tents for the following weeks.

She barely managed to eat three meals a day and slept less than four hours some nights to catch up with her mother's original timetable.

Meanwhile Lady Milburga could not bear to leave her chambers, except for meals.

And even that required more strength from the quiet woman than it should.

So, Mildred sent one of the healers she trusted to look in on her mother and put it out of her mind for the time being because one of the bed frames in the lesser used guest chambers broke when the maids had attempted to move the mattress off of it for cleaning.

Baldwyn was running around the hall like a Shieldmaiden herald, delivering Mildred's orders to their intended recipient. A madly grinning Shieldmaiden herald.

Into that productive chaos, a mere week after she had returned home, rode two of the most important men in Mildred's life.

~*~

Baldwyn ran into the Great Hall (also known as Mildred's command center) and skittered to a stop in front of her sister.

"Baldwine has come! Éomer and his party escorted him home!"

Mildred abandoned her work, quickly running her hands over her dress and hair.

"Oh, Mildred! Do not be disappointed if they are not as close as you would wish," Baldwyn advised her before they had to make their way out of the hall to greet their guests.

Lord Baldwig met them on the way to the entrance, offering each of his daughters an arm.

They came just in time to watch as the riders dismounted.

Éomer had grown even taller and broader in the shoulders. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, reaching down to where his shoulder blades should be.

There was a light shadow of beard on his face, a few shades darker than his sun-bleached hair.

Mildred couldn't help the slight blush as memories of what he looked like under the armor and clothes flashed through her mind.

But she didn't glance away from his eyes, or missed the way the brown darkened a few shades.

"Sweet Béma, is that you, Mildred?" A distantly familiar voice asked, tearing her attention away from her betrothed.

Mildred blinked once or twice, taking in her favorite brother. He was as tall as their father, long hair almost the same shade of blond, with a sheen of red in the sunshine, and had grown a beard.

Baldwine had always looked more like their father than anyone else in the family, but now he was his spitting image. Only a few years younger, obviously.

Laughing, Mildred hugged the brother she hadn't seen in over two years.

"Why, am I so different from what you expected, Brother?"

"Aye, for I, wrongly it appears, imagined a slightly taller, perhaps wiser version of the young filly with glowing red braids I left here."

Mildred rolled her eyes at his ridiculousness. "I would have you know that the Lady Cwendar has declared my apprenticeship complete. By all accounts, I am a stellar example for all a young lady should be."

Baldwine shook his head in mock-dismay. "How many have you bribed? Do you require some additional funds?"

Baldwyn opened her mouth, ready to defend her favorite sibling, no doubt.

However, Mildred simply retaliated by reaching out and twisting Baldwine's ear. "Is that any way to speak to your beloved sister?"

Her brother exaggerated his pain, playing it up for their younger siblings.

"I apologize, I apologize," he cried, acting as if he was desperate to free himself from her mean clutches.

Mildred let go, but Baldwine simply claimed her arm and led the way into the hall.

Behind them, they could hear their father laughingly making their excuses while Baldwyn rolled her eyes and snuck off.

Mildred asked a passing maid to make sure that her brother could take a nice, cleansing bath.

After that, they didn't stop until they reached his chambers. The ones opposite from her own.

"While we wait, you must tell me how you have fared these last few years," Baldwine demanded, settling his sister into a chair by the fire.

Mildred examined him from head to toe. "Oh dear," she said as she realized something so obvious, she should've thought of it years ago.

"What is it?"

She sighed. "I fared well. Théoden King has been very generous and welcoming towards me, as has Lady Cwendar, my former mistress. She has the oversight of his household in Edoras, so it was decided that I should learn from her."

"Father said, the decision was made to separate you and your betrothed," Baldwine countered, frowning slightly.

Mildred rolled her eyes. "That's because Hilda caught us kissing. She thought I was compromising my honor, which I was _not_ , naturally, and that it would best for us to remain apart until we could wed. I'm sure you can imagine why."

Baldwine ran a hand through his hair. "Would you have compromised your honor for him?"

"You believe he would take advantage of me?" Mildred asked, incredulous, against her will. "If anything, Baldwine, _I_ have taken advantage of _him_."

The man her brother had become stood and began pacing.

"I know that you are far from ambitious in that regard, so I assume it was not to gain a higher rank than our lady mother holds?"

Now, _that_ was insulting!

"Of course not! Baldwine, I _love_ Éomer. Luckily, he loves me in return. We have stood the test of time and distance. He has faithfully written to me while we were kept apart, respected my boundaries, respected _me_ ever since we met. He is honorable to a fault and I would happily spend all my days calling him my husband."

She took a deep breath. “I would bear his mark with pride, brother.”

For a moment, heavy silence filled the room.

Baldwine halted his pacing in front of her, kneeling so their eyes met. "There will be songs sung in your honor one day," he muttered, but smiled. "Well, it appears that I owe your beloved an apology. I am afraid I never treated him as the brother he is soon to become."

"Why would you think that?" Mildred asked, frowning at her brother.

"Has no one told you yet? Father and Théoden King decided that you should marry as soon as both of you have finished your respective apprenticeships. It is written into your contract," Baldwine explained gently. "And unless I am much mistaken, your Éomer will gallop through the tasks without a bit of trouble, simply to make certain that your hand is his in marriage by the end of this year."

Mildred wasn't sure quite how she felt. Of course, she had always assumed that they would get married as soon as their apprenticeships were completed, but it was entirely different to hear it confirmed.

"Is there something wrong? Do you not wish to pledge your troth yet?"

That question earned her brother an incredulous glare.

"Baldwine! Naturally, I would love nothing more than to be wedded this year. However, who ever heard of a bride arranging her own wedding? In mere weeks?"

Her words were met by hearty laughter.

~*~

As much as she enjoyed spending time with her favorite brother again, Mildred still had heaps of work left to finish that day.

It was possible, even plausible, that she hoped that Éomer would find her on the way to the Great Hall.

She always missed him far too much when they were apart.

Unfortunately, he did not jump out of the shadows and kissed her senseless.

Instead Mildred made sure there would be some special delicacies in honor of the arrival of Lord Elfmund, Baldwine's master and friend of her father, at dinner that evening.

Within moments of her return to the Great Hall, she was again buried in work.

~*~

Éomer finished brushing Firefoot's coat, rewarding the horse's patience with a piece of carrot. He liked caring for his stallion, it allowed him the chance to think in peace.

Mildred's presence helped center him as well, although his beloved was up to her ears in last minute preparations for the tournament.

As far as he knew, she was finally finished with hiring on some additional women and boys from the nearby villages to help out.

At the moment, Mildred was supposed to be preparing tinctures and drying herbs with her sister to stock up the healer's pantry and prepare the dyes necessary for the wise women.

Éomer did not appreciate the increasingly dark rings under her eyes, betraying how little rest she was getting at night.

At least, Baldwyn attempted to help as much as she could with her nine summers, running to and fro for Mildred.

A throat being cleared behind him tore Éomer out of his own thoughts.

He turned around and suppressed a groan with much difficulty.

Amusement was twinkling at him from eyes remarkably similar to Mildred's.

"A word, Éomer, please?" Baldwine asked.

Éomer nodded, leading the way out of the stable, to one of the few refuges left to him in the industrious chaos and still enduring cleaning spree.

Baldwine smiled, yet he kept whatever remarks swirled through his mind to himself.

"You are a hard man to find," he said instead.

Éomer crossed his arms, frowning at the older of the two. "I did not know you wished to speak to me in private."

Baldwine sighed, running a hand through his long hair. "Please, do not take offense. I simply wished to apologize to you for the manner in which I have treated you whenever we met previously."

Without thought, Éomer's hand strayed to the small, fading scar on his face.

"You are forgiven if you answer me one question. Why have you changed your mind?"

The older male shifted a bit under his gaze. "Mildred. I took her aside to talk to her when we first arrived. She clarified the circumstances of your betrothal, which my lord father had perhaps forgotten to do. Until then, I was under the impression that some high-born half-grown _prince_ forced himself on my favorite sister in a manner that necessitated a promise to wed to protect her reputation and good name."

Éomer stoically kept his composure, considering how he would have acted in a situation similar to that.

If he heard tell that Éowyn was betrothed to someone he had never met, from one day to the next...

"I love Mildred. To dishonor her would be to dishonor myself."

Baldwine smiled. "Then let the past stay where it belongs. If you have the time, I would like to get to know my future brother better."

"Perhaps after the tournament? This is our last evening before the King arrives," Éomer offered, "and I wish to prepare for the first round."

A grin broke out on the other male's face as they clasped hands. "Then you should know your prize should you prove yourself worthy. Théoden King and my lord father have agreed that you two may wed as soon as you have completed the tournament successfully. What better time is there then when all the important nobles have gathered here?"

With that last thought, Baldwine left him to his own devices.

Éomer looked at the forgotten comb in his hand, a plan taking root in his mind.

~*~

That night, after dinner, Mildred was in the process of preparing for bed. She had just slipped into her nice, warm nightgown when someone knocked.

Frowning, she opened the door, not sure who she was expecting.

It certainly wasn't Éomer.

Hastily, she pulled him into her room, praying to Béma that no one had seen him. Especially not Baldwine!

"Not that I'm unhappy to see you, my love," Mildred began, whispering urgently.

Éomer smiled as soon as she started her tirade.

Which sort of took all the fun out of it for her.

"Hail, Firebrand, I see that you are indeed returned home," he teased softly, offering her an embrace.

Mildred huffed, but accepted the hug happily.

After basking in their rare moment of peace, she asked: "Why have you risked my brother's wrath by coming here at night?"

"I wished to see you in your nightgown, my heart," Éomer replied, all serious, as if it should have been obvious to her.

Mildred crossed her arms under her bust, mock-glaring at him.

Unfortunately, instead of paying that the attention due to the inherent danger, as it indicated her less than stellar mood, his gaze dipped down to her chest.

In retaliation, Mildred rolled her eyes and pinched one of his buttocks.

"Now, why have you really come? You should have already been sleeping! The tournament begins in two days. If you don't sleep enough, you will only get injured."

Éomer kissed her forehead, smiling at her. "I shall do my best to rest properly, beloved, for I intend to succeed. I came to ask you for a favor to wear during the tournament. For luck."

Mildred stopped to consider the request with all the necessary seriousness. Favors were a big deal if they were exchanged between those of opposite sex.

Then her eyes fell to her small vanity, a gift from Lady Cwendar to commemorate the end of her apprenticeship.

She picked up the perfect thing to gift him as a favor. "Turn around. I shall braid it into your hair for you."

Éomer obeyed easily, sighing softly when her fingers flew through his long blond mane.

"There. You shall be the luckiest and the prettiest of them all."

"How could I not be, knowing you shall be watching me?"  
  
With a quick, stolen kiss, Éomer vanished back into the night


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mildred watches Éomer. (So, nothing new there...) Oh, and the Tournament begins. 
> 
> Also, what’s that about spotted horses?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No copyright infringement intended.

-6-

The morning of the first day of the tournament, Mildred woke before dawn. She was lying in her bed, wondering what change the coming days would bring.

Despite not having managed to sneak a peek at Éomer when he was on the training grounds, she trusted her father's judgment.

Lord Baldwig would not have risked the King's wrath and appointed Éomer to the tournament if he hadn't thought her fiancée ready.

Sighing, Mildred prepared herself for getting vertical.

Her hearth had gone out in the night, so her room was almost unbearably cold.

Rushing through her washing, Mildred was finished dressing before her maid knocked on her door.

_Good luck, Éomer. I'm counting on you._

~*~

As soon as she left her room, Mildred was inundated by tasks and requests.

A few hours later, breakfast was served in the Great Hall, over which her mother managed to preside, thankfully.

Already, there was the loud din of many voices, even if no one was speaking louder than they should. And the smell of horse lingered above everything, although that was to be expected from the horse-masters of the Mark.

Mildred took her customary seat by her father's side, letting her eyes wander over the many apprentices seated on a table of honor just below the head table.

Baldwine smiled at her and nudged Éomer, who was seated next to him and calmly eating a piece of ham with bread.

Upon being nudged, he lifted his head, meeting her eyes head on.

He managed to hide his nerves very well, only the minimal clenching of his jaw gave him away.

Mildred tried to give him what encouragement she could with her gaze alone, before she remembered that she'd given him a favor. Inwardly scolding herself, she demonstratively pushed her long braid back over her shoulder.

Éomer's eyes widened before a small smile appeared on his face.

Then Baldwine leaned over to him, asking something or teasing her betrothed.

"Do I want to know what this is about, Daughter?" Lord Baldwig muttered to her softly.

Mildred batted her eyelashes at him, all innocence. "What are you speaking of, my Lord?"

"Oh, merely the fascinating fact that young Éomer decided to change his customary hair style overnight. You would not possibly know anything about that?"

"Why would I know anything about how my betrothed decides to wear his hair for the tournament?"

The amusement mixed with slight alarm. "Mildred, be cautious. I hope you are not forcing my hand?"

She swallowed her irritation and indignation the best she could and instead of yelling, she settled onto a frown.

"Father, I know that until he has formally completed his studies and gained the rank of a Rider, until both of his wrist are blessed, he is legally prohibited from inheriting his father's estate. We could not afford to pledge ourselves to each other so completely without some sort of potential income."

Lord Baldwig breathed a sigh of relief. "I suspect that my words hurt your pride, but please know that I am in no hurry to usher you out of the door."

Mildred rolled her shoulders discreetly. "Let us talk about weddings once this madness has passed."

Lord Baldwig nodded, squeezing her hand under the table.

~*~

Théoden King opened the tournament formally, wishing all the participants luck and success.

The first task consisted of a race, for which the squires were separated into groups of four to six. Each group was allowed to choose their own leader, who they had to follow for the next few days as they completed several other group activities.

Mildred hoped Éomer's group had the good sense Béma gave them to see that he was a born leader and clearly superior to every other potential candidate.

After a few minutes of heated debate, Éomer received the braided horsehair plume, which he attached to his helmet with practiced ease.

A heartbeat later, he swung himself on Firefoot's back, giving the older squires in his group the signal to leave.

In the meantime, Baldwine seemed to have also been elected as a leader, as evidenced by the braided, brownish horsetail now attached to his own helmet. He was already riding off, the decision within his group had evidently been made with less strife.

"They are to collect three carved pieces, which I had Elfmund hide over the last few days. He does not have any son competing in the tournament this year, so he was chosen as the least biased," Lord Baldwig explained softly.

Mildred nodded, following Éomer with her eyes until she couldn't see him any longer.

She hoped nothing unexpected happened to him while they were off, roaming the countryside.

~*~

Sentinels stationed all around the Hall kept watch for any distress signals and returning riders.

This first phase of the tournament was meant more to allow the nobles in the audience to mingle with each other, while their sons and squires were completing tasks out of their sight.

Mildred kept herself busy, still doing most of the work for her ailing mother.

Apparently, according to the healer, Lady Milburga had suffered an infection of some sort, which meant, combined with the blood loss, that her body required more time to regenerate.

Perhaps, this would indeed be her last child.

Baldwyn was enchanted by their little sister, who had inherited a mixture of Mildred's red and the rest of the family's blond hair. She did not suffer from the same 'affliction' of freckles, so she promised to be a great beauty - according to the more generous of the visiting noblewomen.

Most of which sent pitying looks at Mildred when they thought she wasn't watching or whispered about her behind her back.

Unfortunately for the petty ones among them, the redhead had long made her peace with the fact that 'her face was liberally sprinkled with freckles', to quote one of the ladies, or that she wasn't blond like almost the entire rest of the population.

The only physical trait they seemed to approve of was the color of her eyes - a deep blue, which some of them seemed to envy.

Regardless, they were very obviously all wondering what had drawn Lord Éomer to her, enough to fall for her. You know, since she wasn't a great beauty.

Mildred tried to ignore most of those conversations if she could help it. Despite everything she'd managed to overcome, some things from Before still lingered.

This was helped by both Baldwyn and Éowyn, who had been allowed to accompany her brother to the tournament.

The two girls followed her around like ducklings behind their mother, trying to help where they could and attempting to cheer her up.

Mildred wasn't quite sure why they thought she needed cheering up, but it was infinitely less troublesome to have them behave in an effort to lighten her load than to plot some sort of mischief together.

~*~

Éomer returned with his group as one of the first three, now unquestionably their leader.

None of them had suffered any injuries, from accidents or surprise attacks by Orcs or other Fell creatures, and not one of their group still seemed unhappy to follow his lead.

Éowyn, yet unencumbered by the weight of maidenly manners, ran and welcomed her brother home with a hug.

Mildred smiled at Éomer, satisfied with the state of his health.

His cleanliness could be approved upon, although there were worse things than the not-so-rosy smell of horse and honestly earned sweat.

Baldwine and his minions rode in just as Éomer led Firefoot into the stable. He received the same welcome as his future brother, only from an infinitely shyer sister who settled on curtsying to him.

He laughed and kissed Baldwyn's forehead, thanking her for the flower she spontaneously gifted him.

"It is good to see you hale and whole," Mildred said, smiling at her brother.

"It is good to be back, for I have much missed my most beautiful sisters' company."

Mildred rolled her eyes at his retort, sending him off to report and stable his horse.

~*~

Once all the groups had returned and finished their reports to Théoden King and their respective masters, they were allowed half a day of rest.

The following morning, all of the nobles gathered outside once more. To witness the first of the individual competitions.

Mildred hurried to get lunch on the way before joining the others, hoping she wouldn't miss anything.

Éomer would shine in any discipline that required him to ride Firefoot, but she wasn't sure how good, or realistic, his chances were in the other tasks, such as the spars, which were only fought on foot.

There was mounted archery of course, although that was only included because of tradition. Nobody still used bow and arrow unless to hunt on foot and during one of the rare sieges. Or to defend their home against Orcs or Dunlendings, but you were usually not sitting on a horse in most of these situations.

Spear throwing contests, followed by spear fighting.

If she remembered right, there was also supposed to be a sort of slalom course where the riders had to 'kill' as many straw dummies as possible.

Mildred sighed, running back to her room through the servant's passages. She didn't have much time left to get changed.

Her maid already waited for her with one of the finer dresses she owned, in a rich green embroidered with copper.

It was more than a bit ostentatious, to be honest, but anything less would be considered an insult to the Rider hopefuls.

While her maid twisted and braided her hair to match the elegance of her dress, Mildred tried to recall any other tasks.

There was something about group fights and of course, what would a Rider tournament be without sword duels?

"My Lady?"

"Yes?"

"May I finish with your headdress?"

"Please, do."

Freda muttered an affirmation and gently unwrapped the ancient circlet.

The oldest daughter of the House was only allowed to wear it until she married and joined another House. Then it was to be kept for the next generation.

The light from the window reflected on the gold, sending sparkles all over the walls.

Mildred hardly dared to breathe as Freda placed the fragile headdress in her hair.

"It is done, my Lady. Here is the fine cloak."

"Thank you for your help, Freda," Mildred replied, already itching to run back the way she came.

Best not to be late!

Unfortunately, running was out of the question in the heavy wool and silk dress.

Baldwyn and Éowyn caught up to Mildred, both dressed in their finest and with similar hair styles.

Apparently, they'd become fast friends, despite their differences in character and disposition.

"Mildred! Hurry, or you shall be late for Lord Éomer's first attempt at the wand!" Baldwyn whispered, afraid someone might overhear.

"I know! But I dare not try running or else Hilda will lock me up in my chambers without dinner!"

"It would certainly not be the first time if she did," Lord Baldwig commented drily, offering his arm to escort his oldest daughter. "Come now. You should be right on time."

They power-walked through the Hall's corridors and out, where the grassy plains slowed the ladies slightly.

Théoden King was seated on Lord Baldwig's other side, smiling at Mildred in greeting.

She curtsied, as was protocol, and then allowed her father to seat her.

"Lord Fastwine, may I present - my daughter Mildred. Mildred, this is Lord Fastwine Fastredsson, Third Marshall of the Mark."

Mildred thought the man next to her had seen better days. What hair he had left was nearly white and wrinkles had dug deep grooves into his face.

As he opened his mouth to reply to the formal introduction, she counted maybe ten remaining teeth.

Thankfully, the King cut the entire polite song and dance short by standing.

All the contestants had lined up in front of the audience, helmets under their arms.

The younger squires were holding the reigns of their horses a few hundred meters away from them.

Mildred smiled when she saw that Éomer was still wearing her favor with pride.

"Béma give you strength, speed, and blessings for the next tasks. Those who returned first from the first task may start last. Begin!"

With that, the participants marched off the field, in a surprisingly orderly fashion, and joined their horses.

The younger squire apprentices handed each of the riders they were aiding their bow and quiver.

Baldwine mounted his horse next to Éomer and Firefoot, the two males nodding at each other.

Lord Elfmund called the names of those whose turn it was, thus managing to keep everything somewhat controlled.

To be honest, Mildred wasn't overly interested in the riders who attempted to shoot first.

It was too repetitive and they weren't Éomer or related to her.

Besides, very few shots actually managed to hit the thin wooden rod they were aiming at.

Eventually, what felt like hours later, but was probably only thirty minutes or so, Baldwine was up.

He approached the starting point at a comfortable walk, his horse seeming unperturbed by the noise of a few hundred spectators.

Subtly, Mildred tensed, sending a quick prayer to Béma for her brother.

Lord Elfmund nodded to him to signal the start.

Baldwine pushed his horse into gallop, shooting arrow after arrow at the 'wand'.

A few moments later, everything was over.

Mildred sighed, allowing the tension to seep out of her.

"Not a bad start - he managed to hit five times out of eight," Lord Baldwig told her quietly.

"Then the last few years of his education weren't quite as wasted as it appeared," Mildred whispered back, earning herself a laugh from her father.

Baldwine's minions followed and their results were mixed. One had missed every time, although he bore the disappointment stoically.

Then, Lord Elfmund called out Éomer's name.

Mildred wanted to bite her hand or hold on to her seat, but she reminded herself that the King was sitting only on the other side of her father, so she restrained herself to biting her lip. Her eyes were glued on Éomer however.

Firefoot easily walked up to Lord Elfmund, looking as eager as Éomer surely felt.

As soon as the Rider had given the signal, Firefoot exploded into movement, gaining speed with every step.

Éomer fluidly drew his bow, loaded, shot, and reloaded the entire length of the short strip.

_One, that's two, three, four, five, and that one is six!_

Mildred couldn't help the proud grin as she heard her estimate confirmed.

"That is a brilliant start," Lord Fastmine complimented her father.

After all, he had trained the relatively young man for five years.

"'Tis indeed," Théoden King agreed, sounding utterly pleased.

Everyone avoided the Oliphant by looking everywhere but at her.

Mildred found she quite liked this arrangement.

~*~

The next task consisted of trying to hit a straw puppet in a way that would mortally wound anyone else. Even Orcs. From the back of your warhorse. While it was galloping at full speed. Through a make-shift maze.

Mildred wasn't sure, but she would have not been surprised to learn a man had invented this.

Éomer and Baldwine were under the last ten to start, due to their good scores in the second competition.

Again, she mostly watched them interact with their horses or each other, than to pay any attention to the other contestants.

The odd murmur of the audience drew her attention, because that either meant someone had done very well or the exact opposite.

One or two of the participants had to be carried off the field on stretchers.

According to Lord Fastwine, who loved to comment everything to her even though Mildred hardly paid him any mind, that was due to their recklessness and cockiness. To paraphrase.

Apparently, one had to keep in mind the horse's movements, one's own balance, the weight of the sword in one's hand, and already plan ahead for the next two targets.

Mildred wouldn't have guessed.

After half an eternity, Lord Elfmund called Éomer forward.

Firefoot almost bounced on his way to the starting point, although that might have just been Mildred's interpretation.

Éomer looked as stoic as ever, from what could be seen under his helmet and over the distance.

The helpers gave the signal that all was ready, so Lord Elfmund allowed Firefoot to ride.

Éomer drew the sword her father had given him to train with, the steel glinting in the light.

Firefoot took a sharp left, a resounding _clank!_ ringing out over the area as blade hit the wooden target on the dummy.

Then a sharp right.

Éomer swung the sword back, taking off the head of the straw puppet.

Left again. _Clank!_

Right. A straw arm fell off.

And right ahead to the last one.

_Clank!_

Éomer sheathed his sword, allowing Firefoot to slowly decrease his speed from gallop to trot to walk.

"Lad is getting extra points for the head and arm," Lord Fastwine muttered to himself, sounding a bit bloodthirsty. Almost like he was admiring the much younger male.

Mildred beamed at Éomer.

He was even more awesome than usual!

Meanwhile, Théoden King and Lord Baldwig exchanged a meaningful look.

She only noticed because her father sighed gustily and reached for her hand.

~*~

That evening, a large feast was held to honor the beginning of the first part of the audience-friendly tournament.

Somehow, Mildred managed to find the time to speak to her brother, despite her promise to keep a close eye on her sister and Éowyn.

Baldwine readily made some space for her next to him, so she sat between him and Éomer.

Ale was flowing freely, even for the foolish Rider wannabes who would dearly regret drinking too much in the morning.

Or so Mildred suspected.

"Are you happy with your performance in the second task, Baldwine?" She asked, sneaking her hand close to Éomer.

Who thankfully caught the hint and entwined his fingers with hers.

"Yes, I am quite content. Of course, neither my horse nor I are as quick as your betrothed and his beast of a charger. But perhaps we have less to win - or lose. Although if I knew a beautiful young lady was watching my every move, then perhaps I would grow wings as well."

Baldwine winked at Mildred, lifting his cup to toast Éomer.

She smiled at the compliment, but before anyone could say anything, a drunken voice did it for them.

"Ha! _Beauty_? Her? She's more spotted than my horse, with the beauty to match," an older apprentice said, loud enough all three of them could hear. "I've heard tell that red-haired wenches are good for only one thing. I bet the princeling wants to claim that fire before she burns someone else. Although I wouldn't mind bending her over the table right now and -"

There was a dull thud as someone with a smidgen of good sense slapped a hand over the drunkard's loud mouth.

Éomer and Baldwine both had stood, pushing the bench back, despite the many others sitting on it.

They looked murderous.

Mildred tried to keep her cheeks from burning with anger and humiliation, willing herself to keep in the tears as well.

If she'd been alone with the loudmouthed bastard, she would have either torn him a new ass hole, because obviously the stick up his butt was blocking the original one, or she would have punched his lights out.

Those words were nothing she hadn't heard before, in one form or another, but they'd never been spoken to her face with as little decorum as this apprentice seemed to have managed to hold onto.

To insult her like this, eating the feast she had helped to prepare, paid by her father's coin, while sleeping under her father's roof...

Insulting her like this when Baldwine and _Éomer_ could hear...

That was a lance straight to her gut.

Praying to Béma that her voice didn't tremble, with _anger_ she told herself, Mildred grabbed her brother and Éomer's arms: "Stop. He is a _guest_ in my father's Hall and must be treated with all the courtesy due to that position. If he chooses to show none in return, then that is on his head and his honor. Do not let his words goad you into undoing your good standing. Too much is at stake for that."

She shot Éomer a narrow-eyed look. Mildred had been on the receiving end of his temper before, when their fights dissolved into shouting matches others did everything to run away from.

His teeth were grinding audibly, but Éomer nodded once to show he understood.

"Now, please, excuse me. My sister seems to require some aid."

Without a backward glance, she left the table. Forcing herself to walk slowly and to keep up her stoic mask, Mildred headed towards the closest entrance.

She needed to be away from this crowd. Urgently.

Once the din of the feast had faded away enough she could hear her own thoughts again, Mildred considered it safe enough to let go.

Tears dripped down her face, almost silently. She pressed her hands to her eyes, angry with herself for showing such weakness. For showing that those hurtful words had found their mark.

She was better than that, _stronger_ than that, now.

As a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, Mildred couldn't help the quickly cut-off shriek.

"I am sorry for startling you, my heart," a contrite Éomer whispered.

Mildred turned around, pressing her face into his tunic. Trying to melt into one new person, instead of remaining two.

Sobs shook her occasionally, although barely any sound escaped.

Éomer tried to soothe her the best he knew how, by letting her cry herself out and stroking her gently while she was doing so in his embrace.

When Mildred eventually calmed down, Éomer pressed a light kiss to her forehead and wiped away the last tears.

"Sorry you had to see that," she muttered hoarsely, feeling the shame burn brightly on her cheeks.

Éomer shook his head, rubbing his thumb gently over the wet skin on her face. "You need not apologize for allowing me the honor of comforting you, Mildred. A particularly learned Shieldmaiden once told me that tears are cleansing our minds and bodies, to make room for more strength."

Mildred's mouth ticked up a bit in a smile. "That must have been a wise Shieldmaiden then. Do I know her?"

His eyes glowed warmly at her in the dimly lit corridor. "I believe you do."

"Hm, can you describe her to me?"

"She has fascinating hair the color of glowing embers, deep blue eyes of the sky in the summer before true night falls, and she is the bravest of all the people I know."

Mildred's smile grew a bit with every word that came out of his mouth. "It sounds like you have quite the high opinion of this woman."

Éomer embraced her lightly, carefully. "I love her. She is dearest to my heart."

"Dearer than your own sister?" Mildred couldn't help but ask in her astonishment.

He shook his head. "My sister and my love are dearest to my heart in equal measure, albeit in different ways."

"Good. For I would have had to hit you and ruin the moment if you'd replied otherwise."

Éomer chuckled. "That is one of the reasons I fell for you. You do not fear to threaten Théoden King's sister-son with bodily harm on the eve of another day of his own Rider tournament."

Mildred pursed her lips in an attempt to hide how amused she was. "Well, I am certain Théoden King would understand the reasoning behind my actions were he to believe they are true." She leaned closer into his warmth and added conspiratorially: "I fear he is under the impression that I am a perfect lady."

That admission earned her a quiet laugh. "Oh dear," Éomer said, purposely keeping his voice down, "best not to enlighten him to your true ways then."

Pretending to be offended, Mildred opened her mouth to scold him, but he took the opportunity to press his lips quickly against hers.

Mildred sighed and gave up the last of her protective walls. "I truly am sorry about losing my composure so spectacularly. Lady Cwendar taught me better."

That seemed to alarm Éomer, who coaxed her head into a position which allowed them to see into each other's eyes.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, Éomer. What did you expect? I am so blatantly different and was born far away from Edoras. Our betrothal made quick work of all the ambitions of some fathers who have daughters Baldwyn's age and an interest in obtaining Aldburg for their heirs. They were not as bold as that loudmouth earlier, but I have heard the sentiment before."

For a moment, his arms tightened around her.

Mildred could hear his teeth grind and his heartbeat pick up.

"Why did you never mention any of this?" Éomer asked, frowning heavily.

She sighed, rubbing circles into his tense back, hoping it would calm him. "Because there is nothing you could have done to change it. The people will have to first get used to me before they welcome me. Times are darkening and strangers are already considered with suspicious eyes."

"That is no reason to insult you so grievously!" Éomer countered vehemently. He took a deep breath before continuing in a calmer tone: "Mildred, you are the _only_ female I have ever considered. You are the most beautiful, brave, _kind_ , compassionate of all the Eorlingas. Nothing, no increasing Orc activity, no darkness, no failed ambitions, _nothing_ is just reason to hurt you, to insult and offend in this manner. You did not deserve to be treated thus and I hope dearly that you have avenged yourself if the opportunity presented itself, or you will have to leave me that privilege."

Mildred cursed herself as new tears welled up, growling impatiently. "Damn it all!"

Before Éomer could ask anything else, she tugged his head down and devoured his mouth. Her hands curled into his hair and held on tightly.

Panting a bit, they separated enough to breathe.

Éomer nuzzled her cheek gently, then made sure to look her straight in the eyes.

"Mildred, harken me now, _you do not deserve to be insulted and made to feel inferior_. Not for me, or anyone else. I love you, my heart. Béma better protect anyone who dares to belittle you in my presence, for I will not show them mercy or give quarter."

And as she stared into the familiar brown of his eyes, Mildred could feel a piece of herself mend.

"One condition."

"Name it and it shall be yours."

"I claim the same right to protect you as you wish to protect me. I might not have apprenticed under any Riders, but I know my way around a bow and sword. Additionally, it is never a good idea to offend the Lady of any household, for we know best how to make things - uncomfortable and that quickly."

He beamed at her. "It is agreed then."

They sealed the deal with a kiss.

Someone cleared their throat behind them, forcing them to separate hastily.

Baldwine shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at them. "Mildred, we shall soon be missed. Father noticed your - departure. If you do not wish for his interference, you should return or make your excuses for the night."

Especially if one considered that one-on-one combat was planned for the next morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the new chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another self insert! Yay!
> 
> I’m prone to updating irregularly, FYI, but I’ve started writing for this fic in April, so I’ve an idea where I wanna go with this. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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